


Settle Down With Me

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Bellamy and Clarke fall asleep in odd places + one time they don’t.</p><p>{ Written for the Bellarke Secret Valentines 2016 }</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settle Down With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bellblake, who requested a canon fic of the first time Bellamy falls asleep in Clarke's tent/room.

_i._

Bellamy sighed, leaning back in the rickety chair. The beeping from vitals monitors–ones they had taken from Mt. Weather before it had been blown to bits–filled the med bay, but he tuned them out. All except one: Clarke’s. It kept a steady rhythm, like it was supposed to. One more thing that was going right today. Her breathing was just as steady, and it was all he could do to not press his fingers against her neck and make sure her pulse was doing the same.

The battle had been long, and bloody, and exhausting, but they had won. It was hard for him to believe they had won. None of the odds had been in their favor. With half the clans siding with Nia, and the other half siding with Lexa but still hating the Skaikru alliance, he really hadn’t expected their side would be the victors on the field this afternoon. He had seen Nia kneel–or rather forced to kneel–as she surrendered. He would have nightmares about the way her head rolled down the steps once Lexa had let her sword fly, ending the threat to peace once and for all.

The battle had gone right, and the treaty meeting had gone just as right. With the instrumental role he and Raven and Kane had played in holding off some troops with strategically planted bombs, the clans were coming around to accepting them. His sister had survived, and Monty had gotten his mother back from the Ice Nation, and everything was going right.

And then Abby had screamed, lunging towards Clarke, who suddenly had a knife sticking out of her belly. Bellamy had barely blinked before his gun had raised, finger pulling the trigger to take out the desperate Azgeda assassin who had made a last attempt to take down _Wanheda._

Bile rose in his throat as he looked at Clarke now, too pale with eyes closed. Her hair splayed out over the pillow, glinting gold even in the dim fluorescent light of the med bay. Everyone had been a wreck during her surgery, except for Abby. From the minute she had taken Clarke into her arms, her tears had stopped. Bellamy was impressed. If it had been Octavia, and he had been the only one with the skills to save her, he didn’t know if he could’ve pulled himself together to do the surgery. Abby had, though, and now they were all just waiting for Clarke to wake up.

Jackson had assured him that it was normal to be taking this long; anesthesia could take hours to wear off. Still, Bellamy refused to move from Clarke’s side. So many things had gone right today, and this, _her_ –she wasn’t something he was going to allow to go wrong.

There was a sudden stutter in her breathing, her chest rising higher than it ever had before. He lurched forward in a panic. His heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed for her hand. Rubbing his thumb over her scabbed knuckles, Bellamy watched her breathing even out again. Still, his pulse rushed in his ears, drowning out even her vitals monitor.

He kept stroking Clarke’s hand, feeling her dry skin and thin fingers. The last time he held her hand, they were pulling the lever together. He couldn’t feel her skin then, covered as it was by fabric and metal. It was strange, feeling her coolness against his sweaty palm now.

The rhythm of his thumb rubbing against her knuckles slowed as his eyes drooped. Her breathing and the beeping were almost hypnotic, and he felt his head nodding down, chin to his chest. Blinking at her bed, he contemplated resting his head, just for a minute.

_Just for a few minutes._

When he woke, he was still holding her hand. He stared at it, small underneath his own. Then he watched her fingers flex, her thumb now the one doing the stroking.

Jerking up, he gaped as Clarke stared at him. Then her head nestled into the pillow and her mouth curved up into a smile.

“Hey,” she rasped.

Bellamy immediately moved to the edge of his seat, a soft grin forming on his own face. “Welcome back,” he murmured. He scooted the chair even closer, then reached out to place his other hand on her shoulder. Her head rolled further to the side. Clarke closed her eyes, releasing a sigh when the tips of his fingers bumped her cheek.

“I am back,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

His breath caught, because things couldn’t be going this right. He had avoided this conversation with her during their preparations for war; what was the point of probing that wound ( _may we meet again_ ) when they all could have been dead in a few days?

“I am,” she repeated, but this time she was looking at him with steady blues.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

She closed her eyes again, smiling as she drifted off into sleep. Bellamy didn’t move, clutching her hand just a little bit tighter as he watched her, a searing warmth blooming in his gut because _she was staying._

* * *

 

_ii._

They didn’t talk about it again, her choice to stay or the why of it. He just accepted it. They had done all of their yelling, the purging of their anger and betrayal and frustration before the battle. Like bleeding out the infection from a wound, the pain was gone once the bad blood was too. He didn’t want to pick the scab off again, so they didn’t talk about it. They talked about plenty of other things though, other things that had to do with after the battle, after her return, just after.

Then one night he woke up in the hours before dawn, left his room to go pee, and found Clarke outside his door. Asleep, she was slumped against the wall, head at an odd angle and chin tucked into the blanket covering her. Bellamy rubbed his eyes, wondering if sleep was making him see her. As he blinked away his drowsiness, though, the image of her curled up outside his door stayed. She really was there, sleeping in his hallway for whatever reason. He hesitated, and the soles of his feet grew frigid against the metal floor the longer he stood unmoving in the chilly hallway. With quick but quiet steps, he went to the bathroom and was back, relieved to see that Clarke was still there when he returned.

When he bent down in front of her, she didn’t move, just kept sleeping. Awkwardly, Bellamy tried to figure out how to pick her up without waking her. She was arranged so compactly, though, all his hands could do was hover over her, unsure and hesitant. Finally he dropped his head in defeat, quietly moving back into his room for the night. It bothered him to leave her out there, but clearly she didn’t want him knowing about this. Laying in his bed, he tried to fight sleep, listening for the sounds of her waking up. His eyes closed without his consent, though, and then it was morning and she was gone, no trace of her left behind.

Clarke greeted him with a smile at breakfast, launching into a conversation about additions to the greenhouse that needed to be fast-tracked. He listened in a daze, trying to figure out if he had dreamed her there after all.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked with a huff as they sat down with their food.

“Yes,” he sniped, sharper than he meant to. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed. Anyone else would have thought her pissed off at his tone, but he saw the worry and hurt in her eyes. More softly, he said, “Yeah, I’m listening.”

Clarke looked at him for another careful moment before picking up slowly again. As her words increased pace and lost their caution, Bellamy listened. He also planned, because he needed to know if what he had seen was real, and if so, why she was posting up outside his room.

That night he waited for it to get dark enough and quiet enough and late enough, hands propped behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Waiting. He expected to hear her: a little scrape, a soft rustle. No matter how he strained his ears, however, Bellamy heard nothing. Finally, when dawn was no doubt coming soon, he got up from his bed and quietly peeked his head out of the door.

There Clarke was, swaddled in the same blanket. This time she was stretched out more, legs straight and back straighter against the wall. She was asleep again, head craned to the side. Sighing, Bellamy slipped back into his room, grabbed a blanket and pillow, then joined her. He shoved the pillow behind his back, careful to not jostle her as he settled in. When he shivered a little, he pulled his blanket closer. Slowly her warmth began to work its way against his side. From the way she seemed to gradually lean closer to him, she was feeling his heat too, and needing it.

Bellamy didn’t feel sleep pulling at him this time. Even so, he was caught unawares when Clarke’s head finally knocked into his shoulder. Then it jerked back up again, the contact having woken her.

Disoriented, she squinted at her surroundings for a few seconds until she realized he was there too, and watching her. Then her eyes widened in shock.

“Morning,” he murmured, oddly loathe to break the stillness surrounding them in the hall.

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled back, voice clouded with sleep. Her hand ran through her hair, tousling it. Bellamy had to resist the urge to push away the stray strands falling haphazardly across her face.

“I think I get dibs on that question.”

A mixture of embarrassment, guilt, and exasperation flashed across her face. “I don’t have a good answer to that one.”

“Doesn’t have to be good. I just want an answer.”

“Bellamy.”

“It’s cold out here, Clarke. And uncomfortable. My back is already fucked up, and I’ve only been sitting here for less than an hour. I’d admire your ability to fall asleep anywhere, but–”

Clarke sighed, cutting him off. He almost smiled at the way she shook her head just the teensiest bit, as if admonishing him for rambling. Shadows rose and fell over her face as she turned towards him. The blanket bunched when she pulled her legs in, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She sighed again as she rested her chin on her forearm, staring blankly at the wall across from them.

“Octavia said you had nightmares.”

Bellamy started, not expecting that to be her answer. “I did, yeah.”

“You had nightmares. About the mountain–when you were in there, and about the massacre.”

“Yes,” he confirmed slowly. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, and he fought the tautness building in his muscles at remembering those first awful weeks back at camp. The night terrors had gone away with time–three months was a _long_ time–but the memories of the events and their horrific, distorted echoes hadn’t left him, probably never would.

“Harper said they could hear you screaming three halls over, for weeks. And Mom told me she even had to sedate you a few nights.”

He didn’t respond, couldn’t even nod. Clarke seemed to sense his tension, hesitating before she spoke next.

“I should have been here. To help you through them.”

“Clarke–”

“I should’ve _been_ here.” Her voice turned hard, almost angry.

Bellamy sighed, knowing where this was going, and finally also why she had been standing guard outside his rooms, even if she was months too late. “Don’t do this.”

“Why?” She turned towards him again, eyes more gray than blue, like the sky before a winter storm. “It wasn’t fair–”

“You needed to go. I saw it in your face that day at the gate. You really think I would’ve let you walk away if I thought there was even one part of you that wanted to stay?”

“I _left_ , Bell–”

“If you had stayed, there wouldn’t be anything left of you now.” The words fell like a gavel, firm and a little bit harsh. He swallowed, tasting anger and bitterness and frustration on his tongue. None of this was fair, any of what they had been through, and as much as he wished she had been here, Bellamy knew he would have lost Clarke in an irreversible way if he had made her stay that golden afternoon. “If you had stayed, we would have lost you for good.”

Her eyes glimmered even in the shadowed light of the hall. Suddenly so very tired, Bellamy leaned back, a thud echoing as his head met the metal wall. It took Clarke a moment, but she soon followed, unwrapping herself to rest beside him. When his hand twitched, his pinkie brushed her thumb, which then lifted and rested over his knuckle.

She scooted closer, then slowly rested her head against his shoulder. By the time he intertwined his fingers with hers, she was whispering, “I had them too.”

His head turned in question, her hair tickling his chin.

“Nightmares,” she clarified. Clarke squeezed his hand–in understanding, in apology, in acknowledgement–and as soon as she was done, he did the same in return.

“I should’ve been there for you too,” he murmured.

With that, she nestled in closer, an almost thoughtless movement judging from the way she suddenly froze, no doubt realizing what she had done. Bellamy just rested his cheek on the top of her head in acceptance, smiling a bit when she relaxed against him.

He really didn’t mean to fall asleep there; he just thought they’d rest, breathe, just _be_ for a moment. Next thing he knew, though, loud footsteps and quiet mutters filled the space around them. The Ark was waking up, and the hall was filled with yellow-white light of the morning instead of the night’s blue-grey.

Clarke groaned as he jostled her awake, and he smiled, happy to know that although three months was a long time, it wasn’t long enough to make her a morning person.

“Breakfast awaits,” he murmured as they stretched out the kinks in their muscles.

She shot him a glare, and he chuckled.

“If you slept in an actual bed,” he remarked pointedly, “maybe mornings would be a little bit easier.”

Clarke let out a noise halfway between a huff and a sigh, her stare considering and exasperated.

“Clarke,” he said, more seriously. “Please. Sleep in a bed. I’m doing okay.”

“And if you’re not?”

“I still know where to find you.”

The smile she gave him was soft and made of something a little stronger than fond. He quirked one back at her, then stood to pull her up off the floor, more than ready to start their day.

* * *

 

_iii._

Peace was great, but it made guard duty boring. It was why Bellamy made sure he and Clarke were assigned the same overnight shift; no way was he spending hours up in the guard tower with someone who would make the time pass slower than it already did. If she and he ran out of things to talk about, they were pretty good at inventing games to keep themselves occupied.

Tonight they had decided to use the shells of the nuts from their midnight snack to see who could throw farther. As Bellamy rolled a shell between his fingers, preparing to toss, Clarke leaned on the railing and, with a grin, taunted, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Bellamy shot her an annoyed look before chucking the shell over the side of the guard tower. Unfortunately, the wind blew back at them, and it fell short of his target.

Clarke let out a delighted laugh, shimmying her shoulders a bit in celebration. “I win,” she announced. Because she sounded too smug at winning this silly competition, Bellamy flicked a shell at her face. It bounced off her cheek before falling to the ground with a soft _plunk._

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, indignation immediately giving way to humor.

“Punk ass,” she accused with a laugh, smacking his shoulder. He responded by flicking another shell, eliciting a shriek from her, and then she retaliated by throwing a handful at him.

Shells cracked underneath his boots as he backed away, hands up and grinning in surrender. “Look what you did. Made a mess.”

“Like the next shift is going to care.”

“I might report you to Miller, Sr.”

“You’re the one who started it!”

Bellamy laughed, because she was right. Glancing towards the railing she was leaning her back against, he asked, “Truce?”

“Admit I won.”

“Seriously?”

“My terms of surrender. Non-negotiable.”

He considered her for a moment, then huffed and shook his head. “Fine, you won.”

At his words, Clarke grinned, a silly thing, bright and happy. It was almost like how she had that night at the dropship when he had told her to go get a drink, or more than one, because she deserved it. That was the night he first–well, _hell_ he didn’t know what kind of first it was, but that moment had felt light then, and heavy afterwards, carrying so much weight for how he viewed her since. Bellamy just looked at her now, smiling even with scars on her face, standing tall despite all the bruises on her heart. Something warm bloomed in his gut, turning hot and demanding when he saw how her skin reflected the moonlight brightly, her hair glinting almost silver in the fluorescent glow of their lamp.

“What?”

He blinked, registering her curious expression. “Uh, nothing.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows at him, not buying it for a second. Even so, she scooted over on the railing and turned around, letting him resume looking out over the land with her.

They didn’t play any other games that night, just talked. Bellamy caught his gaze drifting down to her lips, watching them move rapidly as she conversed and complained and giggled and sighed. She might have caught him once or twice, staring. Whenever she sent him a questioning look, though, he ignored it, distracting her with argument or a joke.

An hour later, they found themselves sitting on the floor of the tower, delinquent in their guard duties. They weren’t the only pair watching, and there wasn’t much time left until the next shift started. The sky was turning black to blue, the stars losing their shine as dawn rose. Clarke yawned, her elbow bumping his arm as she reached up to cover her mouth.

“Close your eyes,” he muttered, glancing over at her. “I know you worked late in medical last night.”

“Our shift’s almost over. I can make it until–” Another yawn halted her words, larger and louder this time.

Bellamy chuckled, gently forcing her head to rest against his shoulder. “Close your eyes, Clarke.”

“Only if you do,” she retorted immediately, pinching his leg for good measure. Then she glanced up, nose wrinkled to make sure he was complying. After rolling his eyes, he did as she asked, closing them and breathing deeply.

Clarke hummed softly, shifting her head back down onto his shoulder. A few moments passed, and then he cracked an eyelid to see if she had followed through on their deal. Bellamy found her squinting up at him to check on him too. He smiled, and she huffed out a laugh before closing her eyes for good.

Bellamy did the same, knowing there might be hell to pay from Kane for falling asleep on the job. It was better for him, and Clarke, though, if he tried so sleep, because if he didn’t, if he kept staring at her, now without the worry of her seeing him do it, he might just do something neither of them were ready for. So instead of kissing her, he let himself drift off, content at the moment just to have her so very close to him.

* * *

 

_+i._

When Clarke decided to bring Bellamy up to the top of the Ark to look at the stars, she hadn’t initially planned on drinking. Then Raven had found out about her plans and immediately thrust a flask at her.

“Please,” the mechanic protested with a wave of her hand. “You two have been dancing around each other long enough. Get some liquid courage in you, make out, and put the rest of us out of our misery.”

Clark glared at her, then asked. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much did you bet on us?”

Raven paused, then shook her head and laughed. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“I don’t. But also Harper has loose lips when she drinks. So how much?”

“I have enough,” Raven said with a grin. “And pretty good odds at winning the pool too.”

Sighing, Clarke took the flask and walked out of the room. Over her shoulder, she called out, “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Raven!”

“You’ll thank me later!” Her friend yelled back with a laugh.

Now here she was, taking another swig of Monty’s moonshine as she lay flat on her back next to Bellamy. He was rambling about Andromeda. Clarke had heard him tell this story before, but she didn’t mind. Smiling, she watched him in the dark, hands extended upwards and waving while he spun his tale. As she took another sip, she realized she would have to thank Raven, because she wasn’t drunk in the least, but she was finally brave enough to sit up, put the flask aside, and swing her leg over Bellamy until she was straddling him.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a nervous laugh.

Clarke just smiled at him, shaking her head before she leaned down and kissed him. She kissed him with everything she had, hands bracketing his face confidently. When he sucked in a surprised breath at the contact, his lips parted, and she took her chance, kissing him more deeply, wetly, just like she had in her many daydreams.

He groaned, and finally his still-raised hands came to grip her sides. She almost smiled when that grip simply moved her closer to him, so that they were now chest-to-chest. Then he took her mouth captivate, moving his lips and tongue and teeth in such a way that had heat pooling in her belly, and lower. Suddenly he flipped them, hands chasing up to hers quickly to pin them above her head.

“Guess you didn’t want to hear about Andromeda again, did you?” Bellamy quipped, trying to sound offended. Except he was grinning widely, his eyes shining with a playfulness that she rarely saw in him. A bittersweet ache filled her chest, because he looked young, like he was supposed to, like they were all supposed to, not like he’d lived a dozen lifetimes and seen a thousand deaths.

He tilted his head, grin fading as he no doubt picked up on her changing mood. Not wanting to lose this little glimpse of the boy he could have been, Clarke rolled her hips and wrapped her legs around him.

“I’ll listen later,” she whispered, voice dipping low. “I’ve got other things on my mind right–”

He cut her off with a searing kiss, all of his weight falling on her. Clarke rejoiced at the way he pressed her into the metal surface, hot and heavy and all hers. When he got too greedy for the feel of her and released her hands to run his own over her arms, her shoulder, her breasts, her waist, she tangled her fingers in his hair. He bit down on her lips after she pulled a little too tight, his hips grinding into hers in the most delicious way.

Then she let out a sharp hiss when their movements shifted her up so a screw top was digging into her shoulder blade.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked immediately, pulling back and looking concerned.

“Wasn’t you,” Clarke assured him. “Just this isn’t the most comfortable place for this.”

He blinked, then looked around and laughed. Clarke’s heart jumped at the way the moon silhouetted him kneeling above her, the stars spreading around his head like a halo. His eyes were brighter than their twinkling light as he looked at her, amused and happy.

“Then let’s go inside,” he murmured, and Clarke wished she had heard his voice raspy with want like that a hell of a lot sooner.

It took them a while to get down from the Ark’s roof, because Bellamy kept stopping to steal a kiss here and there, and she kept stopping to steal a little bit more than that. They eventually made it to a bed, though–hers, it turned out to be, though she didn’t realize it until most of their clothes were on the floor and Bellamy was pressing her into the mattress.

“Oh,” she said, breaking away breathlessly from another of his toe-curling kisses to glance around her quarters.

“You alright?”

“Just, uh, nothing.”

He chuckled, nipping at her neck probingly. “Really, what?”

“We’re in my room.”

“Yes?” Bellamy breathed into the skin of her shoulder, and her fingers dug into his sides at the way it lit her up from the inside out.

“I just realized.”

His mouth paused, and then he was laughing.

“Stop it!” Clarke laughed, and still laughed even when he tried to smother the sound with another kiss to her mouth.

“A bit distracted, hm?”

“Yes, I was.”

He seemed surprised that she admitted it, but his smile that followed wasn’t smug or shit-eating, rather genuine, a bit shy, and most of all, content. Her heart swelled with fondness and then clenched wildly when she saw heat grow in his eyes.

“Keep distracting me,” Clarke whispered, pulling him back down forcefully.

Bellamy was indeed the only thing she focused on for the rest of the night, from the way he kissed her to the way his hands gripped her hips to the way he sunk into her and made her cry out his name as she clenched around him, flying higher than she ever had among the stars. He followed her up, up, up and over, grunting as he thrust with finality into her, and she loved the way he buried his face into the crook of her neck afterwards. They were sticky with sweat, and overheated, but she never wanted to feel air between their skin again. It seemed Bellamy didn’t either, because he only parted to clean them up before pulling her into his side as he lay on his back.

Idly, Clarke traced her fingers over his chest, running the pads over scar and muscle lines alike. She circled a freckle here and there when she found one, scattered more sparsely here than on his face. Then she looked up, at his freckles and his face, grinning at his own lazy smile.

“I like having you in my bed,” she murmured.

She felt his chuckle, rumbling in his chest, as well as heard it.

“I like being in your bed,” he teased back, then pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Snuggling in closer, Clarke stilled her hand so it rested right over his heart. She could feel its steady thrum under her palm as she drifted off, safe and content and sated in Bellamy’s arms.

Being in bed had never felt so good.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://kay-emm-gee.tumblr.com)!


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